


Laundry Day

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Laundry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese helps Fusco fold some clothes, and it leads to something not so surprising anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This was for Kmmerc's B-day, but it wasn't done at all!   
> So to make up for it, this is for V-day!  
> Hope you like it.  
> :)

Fusco wouldn’t have thought Reese could fold laundry. It was such a simple concept. There was no violence involved, no bleeding, no kneecapping – but sometimes Lionel forgot that Reese was only human.

So they stood there, side by side in Fusco pathetic little laundry room. Folding shirts and pants among other garments. It was simple, sweet and almost made them seem normal. The tantalizing hopes for a normal, slow family life had them absorbed in its false reality that Fusco hadn’t even realized they were done folding the said material until John cleared his throat behind him.

“That was a nice refresher; at least I won’t forget how to fold clothes anytime soon.” John teased gently, nudging Fusco’s side. The cop couldn’t help but to frown, knowing his dreams were fleeting and they were both on the road to damnation at this point. “Hey,” He mumbles, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on Lionel’s shoulder and turning him around.

They stand face to face, and Reese can read Fusco’s worried expressions like an open book. “Lionel,” He growls, “You’re over thinking again.” The ex-op steps closer to Fusco, pushing his back against the washing machine and letting out a deep, husky sigh. Quick fingers latch themselves around the cop’s belt and easily pull the leather apart. “Stop worrying, Lionel.” Reese smirks, leaning down to nibble on the shorter man’s neck and sliding battle hardened fingers into the elastic of Lionel’s blue boxers.

“Yeah,” Fusco gasps, clenching his hands in the material of John’s shirt, “Yeah, I’ll stop.”


End file.
